The sun is shining like
A suppressed smile.
Subordinated showers
Seep closer inwards
From the sea shore in piles,
Gushing about to glance grazings
And wash wetter wheels for miles,
Rye ,obliged,
to cry ,itself dry ,from tides
Of waters walloping westward in aisles.
Low lying clouds are grey,grabbing rides
From wild winds.Wincing eyes dial
Tears,bleared,smeared across
Skies in which summer dies.